


The HP_Halloween Challenge

by TeddyRadiator



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddyRadiator/pseuds/TeddyRadiator
Summary: There is a beautiful yearly Exchange at LiveJournal called the HP_Halloween Exchange. Except for one year, I have participated every year I was in the fandom. It is the most user-friendly, stress-free exchange on LJ; only 200 words, and very diverse. I've read some incredible fics there over the years.
Kudos: 3





	1. It's My Party And I'll Go If I Feel Like It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for Toblass, 2012

“Like what you see, then?”  
  
From the shadows he emerged, bathed in the light of the harvest moon, resplendent in black silk. His slashed doublet revealed the shirt beneath, like blood-red rubies adorning his sleeves. Upon his raven hair was a velvet cap trimmed with onyx. With his black Van-Dyck beard and slender frame, Severus was the epitome of the darkly dashing Renaissance baron.  
  
Hermione regarded him appreciatively, and bowed in her stiffly brocaded crimson dress. “I like very much, my lord. And thou?”  
  
Pleased at her reaction, he allowed his liquid eyes to rake over her with black fire. “Oh, yes, pet.” He stroked her cheek, his glossy voice putting the silk costume to shame. “You are as radiant as the sun.” His lips ghosted over hers with decadent langour as his hands slid over her breasts.  
  
“It seems a pity to waste this on a Halloween fancy-dress ball,” she moaned, burning with her own heat.  
  
“I agree,” Severus purred, drawing her back into the shadows toward their bed. “We’ll save them for next year.”  
  
She protested weakly, “But we really should go down. After all, our guests are waiting.”  
  
He was already pushing the dress from her pale shoulders. “Let them wait.”


	2. Buttoned Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Dozmuffinxcm 2013

"It’s a Samhain tradition," he drawled.

"I don’t think so," Hermione countered.

Severus scoffed as he resumed his task according to his exacting standards. "Think what you like, little Miss Know-It-All. I am well-versed in these matters."

She shivered; he had lowered the temperature in their quarters. "So you won’t melt," he smirked, balancing the last two Honeydukes Halloween Buttons atop each pert nipple. In spite of the cool air, the confection melted enticingly, glazing them with 70% cocoa. Severus sat back, admiring his handiwork.

Hermione looked down at the pentagram he’d formed on her belly, the buttons overlapping like scales. Her mons was a triangle of chocolate disks, lined up like pool balls in a caddy. "I look ridiculous," she giggled.

He rewarded her with a rich, sexy chuckle. "You look delicious. My mouth is watering," he whispered. He sucked the melting buttons from her nipples, and she whimpered with desire.

Severus Snape had known a lifetime of seriousness. Discovering his wife’s obsession with his many-buttoned robes sparked a playful streak in him – one she actively encouraged.

Their eyes met, and his began to burn, flooding her heart with love. "Trick or Treat?" he purred, filling her mouth with candy-flavoured kisses.


	3. A Taste of What's To Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Krissy_Cits, 2014

_This_ , he thought, _is not pumpkin juice. I hate pumpkin juice_. Severus sniffed the beverage warily, then studied its colour and texture. To his left, Professor Hermione Granger tutted.  
  
“Honestly, Severus, you’ve done everything to that vial except look at its dental records.” She gave him a little exasperated smile. “Just _taste_ it.”  
  
Severus shot her a suspicious look, then took a sip.  
  
A not-unpleasant mélange of spices burst on his tongue, reminding him of late autumn, falling leaves, spiced cider. A quaint nostalgia for the season filled his heart, without the pain that Halloween once invoked in his memory.  
  
“Well?” Hermione said, with a certain fresh-faced eagerness that he also found not unpleasant.  
  
“It is … potable,” he acquiesced grudgingly. Fixing her with his Moste Imperious Glare, he demanded, “Why, may I ask, were you so insistent I try this concoction, and what is it?”  
  
She looked around, made sure no one was watching, and stroked his thigh.  
  
“Pumpkin Spice tea.” She gave him that wicked grin that he found _anything_ but unpleasant. “And to commemorate the season, I’ve created a lube with the same flavour.”  
  
“I see,” he answered formally, barely suppressing a smile. _Trick or treat, indeed._  
  
Happy Halloween to me, then.


	4. Do We All See The Same Moon?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Inamac, 2015

Bats fly across the face of the bloated harvest moon like messengers of a dark, mischievous god. As they chitter into the twilight sky, the leathery sound of their wings make Narcissa shiver. She closes her eyes and thinks of Lucius. How many nights had they stood at this window, two moonstruck children, and whispered their desires to one another?  
  
They had wished for the perfect family. And as proof of the power of their magic, Draco was born the following year.  
  
The perfect son, the perfect future.  
  
Narcissa wants to ask the moon what happened to her perfect life.  
  
-o0o-  
  
On through the night the bats fly.  
  
The bars bisect his vision, but Lucius pretends they are not there. In his mind, he is holding her, far away, and they are gazing at the moon, watching the bats careen across its face.  
  
He pretends they carry his soul to Narcissa. Even before the Dark Lord, it was his family that mattered. His pureblood is his birthright, but that is not enough. His greatest magic was winning Narcissa; his finest achievement was fathering Draco. He must protect them at all costs.  
  
That is his secret.  
  
Only the moon knows the truth.


	5. A Spell Most Potente

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Hbart, 2016

The Wizarding world gave you insight, a truer sense of the real and unreal, the seen and unseen. Hermione had always been a practical witch; she knew it was another old wives’ tale, created to frighten children.  
  
This was just whimsy, a _dare_.  
  
“Madness, more like,” she grumbled, trudging through the fallen leaves. “What do you possibly hope to accomplish, playing this silly game?”  
  
 _Guarde thy Hearte, oh Woman wise!  
Heedeth the Man, whose blackest Eyes  
Hold thee in his Gaze of Luste,  
Lest he breaketh thy Spirit’s Truste.  
Walketh thou thrice round his Grave on Hallow’s Eve,  
And if fell fingers pluck thy Sleeve,  
His command thou willst obey,  
Till Death takes thee on Judgement Day._  
  
On her third circle around Severus Snape’s tomb, the hand closed over her arm. Hermione spun around, her cry of surprise dying to a whisper.  
  
Haloed by the bloated, harvest moon, he could have been a demon, or an angel, or some sweet hybrid of both. Hermione stood entranced, lost in his liquid, languid black eyes.  
  
He pulled her close, and whispered, “Come with me.” His soft voice was irresistible.  
  
The longing within her recognised its mate, and she took his hand without fear.


	6. The Cards Don't Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Lore, 2017

  
“Prince of Pentacles. A young man of great potential, or unfulfilled expectations. Quarrelsome.” Lupin smiled at his friend. “That’s you in a nutshell, Sirius.”  
  
“Piss off, Moony,” Sirius grumbled. He sailed the card across the Great Hall like a frisbee. “Tarot cards are about as accurate as scrying in the toilet. You _can_ do it, but why would you want to?”  
  
Remus shrugged. “Just passing time.” He drew another card from the deck. “Interesting. The Prince of Swords.” He consulted their Divination textbook. “A spy, an enemy, a bigot. Someone who will hurt the querent.”  
  
A shadow fell across their table. “Predicting the future, wolf? Yours is pretty bleak, wouldn’t you say?”  
  
They looked up into the sneering face of Severus Snape. Sirius growled, “I’d say we don’t need cards to predict your future, _Snivellous_. Everyone knows you’re destined for Azkaban. If you’re lucky.”  
  
“Ladies, please,” mourned Lupin. “One day without this. That’s all I’m asking.”  
  
Sirius pulled the top card and threw it on the table. “From me to you, Snape. Here’s to your future.”  
  
As Snape stalked away, Lupin studied the card. “Prince of Hearts. A lover; the messenger of love.” He looked from Sirius to Severus. “Curious.”


	7. The Bat Of The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for Impossiblegl, 2019

The cream of Wizarding Britain’s society. Sacred cows more like, standing around self-conscious and uncomfortable in their Muggle fancy-dress costumes.  
  
Not her. The black PVC batsuit hugged her figure like a second skin, as if she wore it every day. She flitted from group to group, leaving a trail of covetous wizards in her wake.  
  
She caught his eye, and made her way over. Once, he might have allowed that flaming auburn hair to put him off. Those days were thankfully gone.  
  
“Miss Weasley.”  
  
“Call me Ginny.”  
  
“Ginny it is.”  
  
"So, Severus. What are you tonight?”  
  
He looked down at his clothing. “Merely myself. These affairs are uncomfortable enough without fancy dress.”  
  
Her face fell in mock disappointment. “Shame. I thought we might be a matching set.”  
  
He bristled. “I am well aware of my old nickname, Bat of the-“  
  
“No.” She turned serious. “I’d never do that to you.” Her ruby lips curved in a tantalising smile. “Truthfully? I only wore this because I hoped you might come as a vampire.”  
  
She slipped her hand in his, and offered up her ivory throat. She whispered, “So, why don’t we go someplace more private, and you can grab a bite?”


End file.
